


Dragon Fruit Parfait

by 5t3r30typ1c4l



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Bounty Hunter Roronoa Zoro, Curse Breaking, Curses, Dragon King Vinsmoke Sanji, Dragons, Dreams and Nightmares, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Gay, Huntsman Roronoa Zoro, M/M, Magic, Scars, Slow Burn, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:15:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29312445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5t3r30typ1c4l/pseuds/5t3r30typ1c4l
Summary: Sanji is a valuable dragon whose bounty has slowly risen the longer it takes for him to die. The latest huntsman is a man named Roronoa Zolo, a strange and rage-inducing man who fights with swords instead of snares and guns. He's stupid and smug and handsome and... he's the most interesting thing that has happened to Sanji in over a hundered years.Could he be just what Sanji needs? Could this stranger, this infuriating, annoying stranger, finally be the one to break the curse?
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji
Comments: 23
Kudos: 64





	1. Chapter One: Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry no smut this time, just a slow burn romance that I keep coming back to

**This Huntsman clearly wasn’t one to give up easily.** Sanji was starting to get annoyed. This was  _ his  _ territory and he would be damned if he let someone like  _ that  _ take him down. He peered at the man from atop one of the large boulders on his land. The bumbling man was strange, for he carried three swords. From other bounties perhaps, Sanji would have to be careful with this Huntsman. Something told him that the man was especially dangerous. They were ornate, but from his vantage point the Dragon could tell that they were well worn. The Huntsman’s hand kept straying to his hip, as if he was checking to make sure his swords were still there. 

Sanji’s old wounds throbbed and ached, most bounty hunters had used guns and snares. Hell he’d even been attacked by dogs once, but swords? You’d have to be damn good to use a sword against a dragon. Judging by the angry scars on the Huntsman’s chest and face, he’d met his match more than once. The Dragon crouched down low on the boulder, careful to make sure that the golden jewelry dangling from his neck didn’t clink together. The Huntsman stalked silently through the underbrush, foolishly turned away from the direction of Sanji’s den. Though if it was by choice or sheer stupidity he wasn’t sure.

It was getting late, the sun was casting the sky in brilliant pastels, and Sanji was feeling the stirrings of drowsiness. Still, he had to stay alert, the feathers on the back of his neck tingled with warning. Sanji followed the man with his eyes, mapping every pale scar across tanned skin. He growled, how  _ stupid  _ did they think he was? He huffed and resigned himself to sleeping atop the boulder. The Huntsman seemed to have the same idea, he leaned against one of the towering pines on Sanji’s land and crossed his arms. He took the three swords and stood them up beside him. 

Sanji snorted, stupid man leaving himself wide open like this. Smoke drifted out of his nose. He could  _ easily  _ lunge and kill the Huntsman right now if he wanted. The Dragon shifted his weight, his long slender tail swayed and curled. The sensitive feathers and scales picking up a breeze from the east. Like a cat he dug his claws into the rock, legs tense and wings spread, he lunged.

A low snarl ripped from his throat, hot embers burned in his chest. The slow, bumbling Huntsman met his attack in an instant. Sanji reeled, kicking off the tree and skidding to a stop in the dirt. His hand vibrated with pain, he glared at the Huntsman.

“Finally you show yourself.” he said and Sanji growled. The Huntsman held one sword out in front of his chest. His entire body was coiled with tension, like a spring ready to snap at any instant. He was much more handsome up close. Shaggy green hair swept away from his face, there was a hint of rough skin where a beard would grow. Sanji saw now the scores of bites and gouges and faded wounds across his bare shoulders. He looked the man right in the eye, the fading sunlight caught on three golden earrings hanging off his left ear. 

“You’re even dumber than you look.” Sanji took a step backwards and sneered, making sure his fangs showed. “Get  _ off  _ my land.”

“Your land?” the Huntsman snorted, relaxing his arm. “The bounty on your head begs to differ  _ Sanji.” _

Sanji bristled, the way this infuriating man said his name sent shivers down his spine. He flushed with annoyance and anger.

“Why am I even talking to you?” he turned swiftly on his heel. Crouching, wings spread once more, he stirred the dirt with his tail. “Get out of here, or I’ll kill you.”

Pushing off the groud he took flight. The wind howling in his ears and yet he could still hear the Huntsman below him. Try as he might, Sanji Vinsmoke couldn’t ignore the way that dark laugh bore into his bones.

When he landed in his abandoned castle he noticed the blood seeping out from behind his claws. One of them had shattered all the way to his cuticle and the other was severely bruised. He cursed and kicked a chunk of stone. Slowly he climbed the crumbling staircase, cradling his wounded hand against his stomach. The pain was nothing compared to the attack on his pride. Who did that man think he was? Just barging onto somebody else’s property like that and then threatening to kill him? No manners at all! It was like he was raised on a damn farm. Sanji sniffed, now that he thought about it the man had absolutely  _ reeked  _ of grapeseed wine.

He lumbered down the long, dark halls towards the old king’s chambers. That man didn’t know a damn thing about anything! Who was he to accuse Sanji of stealing this land? Every damn word that Huntsman had said left him feeling uneasy. Almost as if he was… no, no that was silly.  _ That  _ man was gone, and he would never be coming back. Sanji shook himself and found his way to the old bathing chamber. It was a wide room situated deep in the mountain where an old spring fed a wide pool. There were colored tiles along the bottom of the basin, faded and cracked Sanji’s eyes could hardly make out the picture. It was a knight, he was standing atop a dragon, his lance piercing the beast’s heart.

He hadn’t stolen this land, he had bitterly earned it. Sanji took a deep breath and blew hot air across the top of the still water. Steam wafted off the pool and he carefully peeled off the layers of clothes he wore. Leather arm braces, leather boots lined with fur, the many chains and rings draped across his torso and arms. Finally, with a pained gasp, he peeled off the blood stained bandages around his stomach. The last Huntsman had been brazen, he’d shot Sanji square in the side, and the wound still ached. Not even his heightened healing abilities had been able to repair the marred flesh. He hissed and limped over to the pool, sinking slowly into the warm water with a relieved sigh.

Sanji knew this was a bold idea, leaving himself so open and vulnerable while there was a bounty hunter on his land. Yet he didn’t care, with a low groan he sank further into the bath. His blood leaching into the water in delicate ribbons. Oh how he  _ loved  _ the sensation of hot water on his aching muscles. In mere minutes his shattered claw had regrown and he bit the mangled end off. The bruise on his hand yellowed and faded as quick as it had appeared. Yet the wound in his side persisted, horrid jolts of dull agony shot through his side with every heartbeat, the agitated skin hardly reforming. Sanji shifted once, brushed his hand over the wound, and bit back a pained sob. 

Shaking he finished his bath and climbed out of the pool. He looked at his clothes and the dirtied bandages. They would need washed soon, forgoing the calfskin pants and boots and arm braces, he sifted through the pile and pulled out all of his precious gold. Feeling comfort in the way the jewelry hung off his neck. Favoring his left side while he walked, Sanji cursed every step that it took to make it to the old king’s chambers. Water beaded and dripped off his pale skin. The old stone was rough against his feet and leached the warmth from his skin. He shivered, thankfully he had just preened his wings and the water hadn’t soaked into them too completely. The feathers in his hair and down his back weren’t spared the same fate. They were crumbled and waterlogged, he shivered as he walked. Sanji wandered into the old king’s chambers and past the living room into the adjacent kitchen.

Well, a makeshift kitchen really. He’d dragged the old iron stoves up the stairs and closer to his bedroom. Along with the stores of salt and magically frozen ice-blocks. Sanji couldn’t stand to eat his meat raw, he spent the time between killing bounty hunters learning to forage for spice and wild vegetables on his land. He experimented with the meat he caught, learning what vegetables or fruits were best paired with different parts of the animal.

He even learned how to make sweet snacks for himself. For a moment he briefly considered taking the Huntsman a basket of sweets. He blinked and scowled, if that man was stupid enough to venture onto his land then he could fend for himself. Sanji smiled, amused, he wondered what the Huntsman would do when the curse-wolves came to feed.

How stupid the man was, he didn’t know a damn thing about why Sanji was trapped here. The wound on his side ached, Sanji sighed, he would have to forgo making a meal tonight. Instead he took a ripe citrus from his preserves and nibbled on the soft flesh. Right when he had sucked the last bit of stringy peach from it’s pit did he collapse on his bed. His hands and arms were sticky with fruit juice. Though his stomach growled for more Sanji had no more time to eat anything else. Magically induced darkness swept over him.

Sanji hardly had time to pull the furs over his tired limbs before he fell asleep.

He dreamt very little in his magical slumbers, so when he had a nightmare it was all the more jarring. Sanji was standing in a field of overgrown grain. He took a step and fell through the ground. He looked up at a fading sky and silver stars, his wings were like chains dragging him down down down. 

_ Disgusting beast.  _ The thought echoed in the darkness. Sanji wasn’t surprised, it wasn’t anything he hadn’t frequently told himself before. The water turned hot, hotter than the sun and Sanji panicked. Sucking in a lungful of fire he choked and coughed. He couldn’t move, he was strapped to a marble table. There were people in robes all around him.

They rose their swords, like the Huntsman’s, and stabbed him.

_ Disgusting beast.  _


	2. Chapter Two: Regret

**Sanji woke in a cold sweat, unrested and irritated.** The aches in his muscles had somehow sunk into his bones and made a permanent home there. He stretched, yawned and limped back into the bathing chamber. Grabbing a handful of tree nuts on his way, as he ate his thoughts wandered. As best as they could with the shooting pain in his side. Gathering his discarded clothes Sanji entered a separate chamber with a smaller basin of cold water. Dropping his armour on the side of the pool Sanji reached for a lumpy block of homemade soap he’d made. Kneeling he scrubbed away the layers of dirt and sweat and blood. 

Had the Huntsman manage to defend himself against the curse-wolves? Sanji sighed why was he so worried all of a sudden? It made him angry, ashamed even, why now was he feeling something for a lowly  _ human?  _ He carefully washed his bandages, they were easily as old as he was. Bright patches and sloppy sewing dotted the yellowed strips. 

How old was he again? Sanji had to think for a moment, glancing down at the slashes on his wrist. Gods, the days blurred together behind his eyes. Because Sanji didn’t want the poor man to die of starvation or dehydration (not because he was worried) he decided to gather some of his old, bruised fruit and honey-mead when he was done with his clothes. 

Sanji channeled what little magic he could to leach the stains out of his bandages and dry them. It was exhausting, the energy was sapped right from his soul it seemed. He had vowed long ago not to use magic for trivial things like this. He didn’t care, he’d had this infernal wound in his side for years and that damn bullet had only made it worse. He reached for another jar, this one was filled with medicinal goop that he’d stolen from one of the Huntsman. 

It was almost empty. Sanji took as little as he needed and smeared it over his side. His eyes grew misty at the pain, he bit his lip as he wrapped his stomach. Each breath felt like his very lungs were exploding inside him. He gasped when it was over and laid out his damp clothes. Drying them thoroughly before slipping them on. Then, the sun hardly rising, he took flight from the washroom balcony. 

The cold damp wind cut through him more so than usual. His heated skin was usually enough to keep the winter chill out. Sanji shivered, something was very wrong.

He was dying wasn’t he? 

His landing was stumbled when his legs gave out beneath him. What was he thinking? As weak as he was the Huntsman could easily kill him now. The new moon must have been approaching. 

_ On the day of the one-hundred and first starless night…  _ He pressed his back against the corner where two boulders met. Tucking his knees in close he wrapped his wings around his shaking chest. Black spots danced behind his eyes, pain shrieked inside his head. His heart was pounding in his chest. Sweat beaded across his chilled skin. His legs, gods his legs they hurt so fucking bad. Old pain flared, old burns ignited, his head fell back.

Sanji sobbed, and the feeling was gone. Replaced by numbing calm, he stood, swayed, and threw up in a berry bush. Legs shaking he brushed his golden hair out of his face.

When his stomach had ceased its endless churning he made his way into the underbelly of the castle. It was dark and cool and relatively dry. One of the first instances of magic he had ever used on the rotting palace. It was a simple spell, one meant for preservation, and it was stretched so thin that the magic wasn’t as draining as it normally would have been. Sanji dragged his hand along the rough rock wall. This was where he kept his honey-mead and grapeseed wine. Along with the old fruit he didn’t want. He gathered a small barrel of subpar honey-mead and a decrepit box of bruised fruits and berries. 

It wasn’t hard to carry, but he would have to walk instead of fly. Sanji was careful not to drag the fruit and mead along the trampled grass. He yawned and took a deep breath of the fresh air. Birdsong floated through the spindly birch trees that surrounded the rocky cliff where his castle sat. The muffled roar of the ocean was soothing in his ears. He was careful to avoid the pillbugs and centipedes skittering around his feet. The day was quickly warming as the sun peeked over the distant mountain. 

The smell of a growing snowstorm was heavy in his chest. It was maybe five days out, he would have to hunt to make up for the lost time. Would the Huntsman be safe until then? Sanji figured he  _ could  _ secretly leave a trail of overturned rocks and gouges in the trees to the enchanted wine-cellar. He wrinkled his nose, he’d never been this… what was it?  _ Kind  _ to a Huntsman before, still he would feel bad if the man starved on his land.

Let it not be said that he wasn’t a generous host. Deciding he didn’t want a man who reeked of wine to be loose in his castle Sanji pushed on. He found the spot where they had first talked and left the honey-mead and fruit against the great tree. The Dragon situated himself in the underbrush of a low hanging pine. Squinting so that the glint of his eyes wouldn’t give him away. He would wait for the Huntsman and follow him throughout the day.

No, he assured himself, it wasn’t because he was bored and this stranger was something unfamiliar. Not at all, it was merely because in order to kill such a strong Huntsman Sanji would have to get inside his head.

Yes, he reasoned, that sounded correct. Sanji made himself comfortable and waited… and waited… and waited some more. Soon the day began to wane and the ghost of drowsiness snuck up on him. He yawned, figured that the Huntsman  _ would  _ be wary of this spot, and shimmied out of the underbrush. Stretching his wings and his tail he popped his sore joints and muscles. If he made it home fast enough he could cook a nice meal before bed. Sanji brushed the dirt off his body and began to walk. An evening stroll never hurt, and he wasn’t one to pass up an opportunity to mark his territory.

Sanji brushed and rubbed against trees and rocks in order to leave his smell behind. He scratched deep marks into rough bark and slick stone; ruffled his feathers so that the small fluff floated to the forest floor. The Dragon yawned again and moved towards one last tree before he would take flight.

But he hesitated, his hand hovering just above the smooth birch. It smelled different than it should have. He leaned in and sniffed once,

“Oh!” Sanji knew what that smell was, he sniffed again, it was saki. He licked his lips,  _ that  _ was something he hadn’t had in years. It must have been the Huntsman, the Dragon huffed, he couldn’t believe he was about to do this but….

Sanji spread his wings and went home, leaving the tree-and the Huntsman’s scent-alone. 

That night he didn’t dream, but his sleep was just as restless.

Immediately he went to search for the Huntsman. Bounding through and around the trees and rocky hills of his land. The forest, save for the evergreens, was barren. The bare branches like spindly fingers reaching for the distant sky. By the time he found the bumbling idiot the sun was nearly at its peak. 

He was in a clearing and snoring so loudly it was a wonder Sanji hadn’t found him sooner. The Dragon dropped down a few branches and situated himself across from the Huntsman. Leaning low on the sticky pine he waited for the stranger to wake. There was a scratch or two across his forearms but other than that… he seemed fine. It was incredible, most (at least by now) would have been covered in wounds. The toxic magic from the curse-wolves would have been slowly leaching the life out of their bodies. 

But this mere human barely had a mark on him. Sanji couldn’t hide his gasp, the only other man who had survived the night like this was--

The Huntsman woke with a snort, thank the gods, giving Sanji a blissful distraction. He got to his feet, dusted himself off, and carefully tied his swords to his hip. Sanji watched as the man seemed to spin around in a slow circle then walked right into the wood. 

What the hell was he up to? Now that he thought about it Sanji hadn’t seen any semblance of a camp or shelter. Did that mean that this man was even stronger than he had previously thought? The mere notion sent a shiver of dread down his spine.

The Dragon followed behind the Huntsman, albeit at a safe distance, the feathers along his neck and spine had never been this ruffled before. The man cut an erratic path through the trees, oftentimes he would just stop and stare at the woods around him before moving again. Was he trying to confuse Sanji? Or was he trying to throw off his own scent by spreading it over such a wide area?

Sanji shook his head, every so often the man would take a small knife out of his boot and carve into one of Sanji’s trees. More than once the Dragon wanted to snarl and lunge for the Huntsman. But the wound in his side and the freshly regrown nail on his right hand warned against it. Sanji settled for darting from treetop to treetop, startling small birds and fat squirrels. Finally, as the day waned for the third time since this man had wandered into his wood, the Huntsman found another desolate tree and sat against it. He folded his arms across his chest and peered into the shadows around him.

“I know you’re out there.” he called, Sanji didn’t answer, he shrunk back further into the tree canopy. “I can feel your eyes.”

Sanji snorted, smoke dissipated in front of his face. The Huntsman grumbled to himself before reaching inside his loose green robes. He took a small silver flask and drank from it. Except the flask was empty and he threw it to the ground. Sleep called to the Dragon and Sanji made to leave, his castle wasn’t far. If anything the Huntsman was dangerously close to finding his horde. 

“Wouldn’t it just be easier for you to attack me dammit?!” 

Sanji hesitated, why would the human ask for him to attack? Hadn’t he heard the stories about this place? Did he even know about the magic in this wood? Exhaustion was dangerously close now, if Sanji didn’t leave he would be attacked by the curse-wolves. 

He wanted to stay, he wanted to call out to the Huntsman and tell him just how utterly strange he was, but he couldn’t. It was the first time in over one-hundred years that Sanji felt regret when retreating to his castle. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! The AOB Breeding series is still underway and being written right now :)


	3. Chapter Three: Confusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's getting spicy in here

**In the morning he went hunting.** There was a herd of wild sheep that had wandered onto his land. Sanji had tracked them to an area of steep, broken cliffs near the edge of his territory. Their meat and wool would make a comfortable addition to his horde. He could already picture the warmth that their blankets and carpets would provide. It had been a while since he’d cooked with veal. Already some delicious dishes popped into his mind, his mouth began to water at the thought. He had been hiding behind a dead berry bush, waiting for one of the rams to wander away from the herd, when the Huntsman showed up. He stumbled out of the tree line looking frazzled and disoriented. Cursing and stomping his feet he approached the herd. The sheep bleated in alarm and darted into the wilderness beyond. Sanji rolled his eyes, what the hell was the point in hunting if someone was just going to scare the food away?

He had made to leave, his stomach growling in frustration, when he heard a shout. One of the rams had charged the Huntsman and swept him off the ground. Sanji watched as the man went flying, with a sick crunch he hit the hard earth.

The Dragon groaned, never let it be said that he wasn’t a generous host. With a roar he lunged and attacked the ram. Biting hard into its neck, clinging to the bucking beast until it bleated once and fell limp. Sighing he stood, blood dripping from his fangs, and went to check on the Huntsman. He snorted, the man was out cold, but his arm was bent at an unnatural angle. 

Sanji sighed, he really should have just left the human there on the plateau. What had they ever done to help him? Every single human that wandered onto his land came for one thing and one thing only. The hole in his side and in his heart proved that. While he stood he debated within himself. If he left the man to die that was just more blood on his hands. On the flipside, if he nursed this man back to health he would be perfectly capable of killing Sanji when he wasn’t paying attention. His best course of action, from a logical standpoint, was to leave the man here for the curse-wolves. Except something in the back of his mind made him reconsider. He’d already made it this far, Sanji was admittedly a little curious about what the man would do next. 

_ I hope I’m not about to do something terribly stupid.  _ Sanji squatted and hoisted the Huntsman over his shoulder. He stumbled, the man was heavier than he looked, and grabbed the ram by its upper jaw. It would take the rest of the day, but he stubbornly dragged the ram and the Huntsman back to his castle. 

The Huntsman first woke as Sanji was making his way up the shattered steps. 

“You’re injured, go back to sleep.” Sanji growled, the man didn’t answer and presumably fell back into his slumber. When he entered the foyer Sanji dropped the ram and carried the unconscious hunk of meat towards the old king’s chambers. Cursing and swearing and dropping him more than once. Why was he doing this? What the hell would he get out of it? If anything the man would panic and try to kill him! 

Sanji muttered to himself as he pulled the man by his boots into the old maiden’s chambers. The room was dusty and dark and it smelled like mold. The carpets were faded and frayed at the edges, the sheer silk curtains were filled with moth holes. He sneezed when he dropped the Huntsman atop the ancient fourposter bed. A cloud of dust flew into the air and the mattress groaned under the man’s weight. 

Silence filled the room as Sanji stared at the Huntsman. What was he supposed to do now? He poked the man’s arm, it was tough and turning purple, the man’s face scrunched up in pain. Deciding that human arms probably shouldn’t bend like that Sanji took hold of the mangled limb. Not-so-gently he twisted the flesh back into what he supposed was a natural position. 

The Huntsman whimpered in his sleep. Sanji laughed and sighed, how funny humans could be. What should he do now? Whenever Sanji needed to heal a cut he just used magic. But humans couldn’t use magic could they? Oh what to do… what to do… he snapped his fingers, the healing cream! Sanji burst out of the room and into the bathing chamber. Snatching the healing cream off the shelf he scrambled back into the old maiden’s rooms. 

He paused, if he used the proper amount of ointment he would be all out. Did he really want to sacrifice this precious mixture for a bounty hunter? One look at the man’s pained face tug at his heart. 

To hell with it! Sanji scraped the remaining goop out of the jar and massaged it into the Huntsman’s broken arm. Then he folded the tender limb across the man’s chest, tying it in place with the bandages from around his torso.

Then, with nothing else to do and the daylight waning, he deduced that the best option was to curl up next to the man in order to make sure he didn’t move during the night. 

It was only for the man’s health, not at all because Sanji craved the company.

The Huntsman slept through the night and into the next day. Sanji stuck around his castle just in case the man woke and tried to leave. He washed the man’s clothes, checked on his wounds, and even force fed him mushroom soup. It was an odd feeling, having the wellbeing of another hanging over your head. Sanji found he quite liked pampering others and caring for them. While he was at it Sanji cleaned and dressed the Huntsman’s other cuts and lacerations as well. He even found a wild boar to kill and keep for the coming winter.

When the man finally stirred Sanji had been curled up in the corner of the room dozing in and out of a restless nap. 

“Where…” he heard the man mumble. Sanji opened one eye and watched the Huntsman push himself up onto his elbows. He shouted in pain and fell backwards, his broken arm not quite healed yet. Sanji peered at him from the shadows. “Where am I?”

“The old castle.”

_ “Gods!”  _ the Huntsman swore and jumped. Searching the room until he saw the glint of gold around Sanji’s neck. Immediately he was on his feet, one hand clumsily grasping at his swords, his other was useless. He swung the steel towards Sanji, but his grip was shaky. 

The Dragon quirked a brow and studied the man. His eyes were sunken and dull, his face was gaunt like he hadn’t eaten properly in a few days (which he probably hadn’t save for what Sanji fed him). The arteries and veins beneath his skin were dark, darker than they should have been. It seemed the curse-magic was finally seeping into his soul.

“You’re in no condition to fight stupid.” he said. The Huntsman slumped in defeat and ground his teeth. 

“Says who?”

“Your broken arm.” Sanji yawned and stood, he stretched and shook out his wings. “I carried you here.”

The Huntsman lowered his weapon.

“Oh.”

“Yes,  _ oh.”  _ Sanji rolled his shoulders. “You should stay, your arm is still healing. Or at least I think it is. Humans are strange.”

The Huntsman tested his strength and hissed at the pain. They stood in awkward silence for a moment more before the man decided to climb back into the bed.

“What’s a dragon doing nursing me back to health?”

Sanji shrugged, he didn’t really know. It wasn’t like he knew the man or even cared about him. If anything he despised humans with a deep passion. Just thinking about them made his blood boil. So he coughed and moved to leave, walking past the Huntsman, but he paused when he reached the door. There was one question he needed the answer to.

“How did you survive the curse-wolves?”

“ _ That’s _ what they’re called?” the Huntsman was rolled on his side and facing away from Sanji. Sanji hissed in a gasp, how hadn’t he noticed it before? The Huntsman’s back was covered in deep, nasty gouges. They looked old and dried blood caked their edges. How the hell was this human still alive? “Those damn things got the jump on me, so I killed them.”

“Killed them?” Sanji echoed, “impossible.”

“They were just wolves with a little bit of magic. I’ve killed worse.” 

“How did you do it?” Sanji couldn’t hide the apprehension in his voice. If this human had managed to kill the curse-wolves then what did that mean for him? Had he just let a demon loose in his castle? Had he just nursed back to health the thing that would cause his death?

“I cut them.” he said that so matter-of-factly that Sanji nearly choked. Just  _ how  _ strong was this monster? Sanji, the feathers on his back tingling with fear, let go of the door and fled. 

He kept himself barricaded in his chambers for the rest of the day and well into the next. Too terrified to face the Huntsman again. 

He sighed and looked down at the half-peeled potato in front of him. The human was probably hungry by now. Against his better judgement he began to prepare a meal for two. It was simple, roasted meat with wild vegetables and grain. As he worked he let his mind wander. 

Had the Huntsman stayed in his rooms? Had he even stayed in the castle? Sanji frowned, how could he leave? The castle was situated on a huge mountain, part of it dangled dangerously over the sea. The stairs that led into the palace were shattered and impossible to climb. That was why Sanji stayed here every night, it was safe, no human had ever managed to get inside. 

_ Until now. _

Sanji’s tail twitched in annoyance, why was he so afraid of a mere Huntsman? It wasn’t like him to be so intimidated like this. _He_ was the damn beast wasn’t he? If anything the Huntsman should have been horrified to be trapped in here with _him._ Not the other way around! 

Sanji looked at his right hand, at the nail that the Huntsman had shattered. He closed his fist slowly and opened it again. No one had ever made him feel like this. He’d never felt so utterly vulnerable so…  _ human.  _

The food was done, Sanji plated the meal on ancient porcelain and swallowed his fear. He couldn’t hide forever, if he did he’d be a laughing stock! He forced himself to make the slow trek towards the old maiden’s chambers. Gingerly he sat the plate on the ground in front of the door and knocked.

There was no response. He waited a few moments more before deciding to leave. He turned and--

“Oof!” ran right into the Huntsman. Blinking he stumbled backwards, careful not to step in the food. 

“I’m sorry I--” he cut himself off, the Huntsman was… he was  _ naked!  _ Sanji flushed, he tried to say something,  _ anything!  _ But the words just caught in his throat. 

Tanned skin stretched on and on for miles, the scar on his chest ran all the way down to his hip. Gods he must have been two hundred pounds of pure muscle! The water that beaded and dripped down his body did things to Sanji that he didn’t want to think about right now. Sanji had seen himself in reflections before but never  _ ever _ another person! He was handsome, more so than Sanji had thought. Oh gods how he wanted to crawl into a hole and die right then. The Huntsman didn’t look amused, he swallowed, and when he did his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.

_ Oh gods.  _ Sanji stammered out a weak excuse and tried to flee. The Huntsman grabbed his arm and held him still. Shit, he was trapped against the wall. He leaned in, his chest pressing against Sanji, and just looked at him. 

“You’re blocking the door.” he said into Sanji’s ear. Sanji shuddered before processing what he had said. The Dragon nodded and stepped aside. The Huntsman bent down and picked up the plate Sanji had left, opened the door, and disappeared with a low chuckle. Leaving a very flustered, very confused Sanji alone in the hall. Burying his face in his hands he slid down the stone.

Now, Sanji would never admit it, but he quite enjoyed the sound of the Huntsman’s voice in his ear.


	4. Chapter Four: Denial

Dragon King Vinsmoke Sanji (my own art)

**Sanji couldn’t face him again after that.** Each and every time he stumbled across the Huntsman all he could think about was that incident. He’d stammer and blush and flee whenever they made eye contact. For the love of gods he had no idea why. Never in a hundred years had he felt this way, and he _hated_ it. 

Sanji grew to resent the man living in his castle. He loathed talking to him, he abhorred the thought of stumbling into him. He despised the idea of even going near him. Sanji decided the best thing to do was keep his distance, early in the morning he would take flight and leave the castle. Finding something-anything-to occupy him until the magic would force him to sleep. He’d hunt, he’d forage, he’d mark his land, and anytime his thoughts would wander back to the image of the naked Huntsman, he’d smack his head against the nearest rock.

The snowstorm was fast approaching, giving Sanji an excuse to evade the Huntsman. More than once he caught the man wandering around his castle. He’d spotted him in the gardens, in the ballroom, and even in the westernmost tower. A place that Sanji refused to go. Disgruntled, annoyed, and infuriated Sanji had to force himself to deliver dinner to the Huntsman. 

If he was ever forced to interact with the man it was quick, blunt, and rude. Sanji didn’t care, he didn’t want to be around someone who made him remember. 

Who made him _feel._

Oftentimes Sanji would fly into the Huntsman’s chambers when he wasn’t around. He’d leave food and honey-mead on the nightstand and more than once he’d stitched together a robe or two and laid it out on his bed. He’d brought him fresh blankets and medicines, and sweet berries and grapes whenever he found them.

But Sanji still refused to face him. The Huntsman was stupid, he had no sense of direction. There were times that he had seen the man staring at dead ends or stairs in confusion. More than once Sanji found scratch marks in the stone walls. Little slashes that grew in number the more confusing the halls became. 

It made him angry. Why, why would someone mark the walls of a place that wasn’t their own? This was _his_ castle, _his_ home, how dare some stranger do this to him? 

Not to mention that the Huntsman was horribly loud. He snored and shouted and stomped wherever he went. Even when Sanji was trying to peacefully cook, nap, or organize his horde, he could hear the Huntsman. Whether he was talking to himself or making noise while (what Sanji guessed was) training.

The Huntsman was irritating, he was loud, he was foolish, and he was stupid. Why had Sanji thought it was a good idea to bring him here? Sure he _was_ stupidly handsome and he did smell nice, but that didn’t matter when he was such annoyance. It didn’t matter that the Huntsman kept him company and brough noise to the lonely halls of his castle. It didn’t matter that Sanji was happy to have someone to take care of.

All that mattered was that the Huntsman had to go.

The snowstorm was on the horizon, it would hit during the night. Sanji spent the entire day tirelessly reinforcing the doors and windows of his castle. Stuffing wool and cattle-skin into the cracks to keep the cold out. He lit fires in the hearths and candles melted onto the window ledges. He had just lit a candelabra when he paused, didn’t humans need light to see correctly? Sanji had his dragon sight, he could see fine in the darkness. But the Huntsman, what did he do at night?

Sanji figured it wasn’t his problem and continued stocking the chambers with plenty of fire wood. He left supplies outside the Huntsman’s door, some heavy wool clothes and blankets (a human would probably need those they _were_ pretty feeble) a crate of honey-mead because he seemed to enjoy the alcohol more than Sanji did, and finally a box of candles and old matches. 

Sanji sighed, the Huntsman’s arm was probably in the better half of healing by now. Aided by the magic Sanji had sacrificed and his healing ointment, it would have sped up the process by months. He must have been ready to leave by now. 

“Good,” Sanji said to himself. “I’ve no need for a Huntsman in my castle.”

Still, he couldn’t explain it but… he would be sad to see the man go. He shook himself, no, no he would _not_ let himself feel things for another! He steeled himself for what he was about to do, and knocked on the door.

He heard a muffled shout and some shuffling before the door opened. The Huntsman stood in his bloodstained clothes, his bulky frame filling the doorway. He seemed surprised to see Sanji.

“Food, clothes, candles,” Sanji said and pointed at the crates beside him. “Stuff your windows and doors. There’s a snowstorm coming tonight.”

With that he turned to leave, probably to nap the rest of the day away, when the Huntsman grabbed him again. Sanji growled low in his throat and glared at the man.

“Let me go.” he snarled, yanking his arm back. “Who do you think you are? Just because I invited you into my castle doesn’t mean you have the freedom to seize me as you see fit.”

The tension that had been building between them in their sparse interactions reached a boiling point. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” the Huntsman spat, he shoved Sanji forward into the hall. “ _Why_ are you helping me?”

Sanji whirled around, his heart pounding, he opened his mouth then thought better of it. Swallowing his anger he forced himself to calm down. He said nothing, the vein in his neck standing out. The Huntsman didn’t appear satisfied, he grabbed Sanji’s shoulders and shook him. It took everything Sanji had not to lash out and attack the dumbass right then. He clenched his fists and bit his tongue while the Huntsman shouted at him.

“First you help me heal my arm then you can’t stand to talk to me? Now this? You’re feeding me and giving me gifts but you act like a complete _dick!_ What the hell is wrong with you? What did I do to you? And how the hell do I get out of here? _Let me go you monster!”_

The Huntsman pursed his lips and let Sanji go. The weight of his words falling heavy on their shoulders. Sanji tensed and swallowed hard,

“If you want to leave,” he growled, “I can take you away. But the snowstorm will kill you. It is best if you stay here.”

“Why are all of you magical creatures so fucking confusing?” the Huntsman whispered, probably thinking Sanji couldn’t hear him. Sanji shrugged and shook his head.

“I wouldn’t know, after all, I’m just a bloodthirsty asshole aren’t I?”

“That’s not what I--” he tried to say, but it was Sanji’s turn to be angry.

“Not what you meant? Then do tell _Huntsman_ ,” he spat in his face, waving his hands around as he talked. “What exactly _did_ you want when you came here huh? Companionship? The wonder of nature? Hell did you even care about what you were walking into?”

“I--”

“NO! I’ll tell you what you were thinking! Oh, a dragon? I’ve killed those before. This’ll be easy, I’ll just slice him up and collect the money? Huh? Is that it?”

The Huntsman was as red as a beet, all the way up to the tips of his ears. He looked like he was about to explode but Sanji wasn’t done.

“Did you even _consider_ the fact that I might have feelings?! That I might be suffering up here just as much as they are suffering out there? No! No you fucking didn’t! So I’ll tell you what, you can leave for all I care. I could give two shits if you die out there now. GO AND GET THE HELL OFF MY LAND!”

 _“Don’t you think I tried?”_ the Huntsman yelled and Sanji’s anger evaporated.

“What?” he mumbled, “what do you mean you _tried?”_

The Huntsman ran a hand through his hair he looked so tired all of a sudden. In the low candlelight he seemed ancient. Sanji stared at him, took a step back, and looked past the man and out the window behind him. 

“I tried,” the Huntsman croaked, “there’s no way out of here.”

“Of course the castle steps are--” 

“Not the castle. I mean here.” the Huntsman gestured all around him and looked out the window too. His shoulders sagged when he turned to face Sanji again.

Sanji’s head was spinning, he scrambled for an answer and came up empty.

“The… the curse I thought it only kept _me_ here. Other Huntsman they-he swallowed-they were able to leave I thought?”

“They did,” the Huntsman sat down hard on the bed he held his head in his hands. “But I can’t. I don’t know what it means but I can’t.”

“You… can’t? Are you sure?” Sanji knew, he knew somewhere in the back of his mind what this meant. The Huntsman painfully nodded, Sanji slumped against the door. It was impossible, he had long since given up hope but… there was only one explanation.

“Then you…” he had to find the strength to say it. To even hope that it was possible. “Then you’re the one I’ve been waiting for.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re the one who will break the curse.”

Sanji decided to stay with the Huntsman that night. They talked and Sanji explained what he was talking about. He left out a few choice details but the short version was:

Sanji had been trapped here over a hundred years ago by a ritualistic binding spell. The magic was slowly leaching the life out of him and if he didn’t find a way to break the curse in one hundred years he would die and the land he lived on would wither and suffer from an eternal winter. He knew that the answer to breaking the curse would be when a person stepped onto his land and was unable to leave. It was magic’s way of saying that this was the key.

The Huntsman however, wasn’t so understanding.

“What do you mean I’m stuck here until we figure this out?” it was getting late and the sun was beginning to set. The stirrings of drowsiness were creeping in on him. Sanji had long wondered what this particular part of the curse was for. He had never seemed to figure it out. 

“You just are.”

“What the hell does that mean? You don’t know?!” the Huntsman groaned and fell backwards on the bed. He hissed in pain, the gouges in his back had had a hard time healing. Sanji guessed they were still raw. 

“Mm, no.” 

The Huntsman cursed and sighed, he peered at Sanji from the corner of his eye. 

“So… any idea how to break this curse?”

Sanji shrugged, he knew as much about this as the Huntsman did.

“Huntsman, you would know more than I do.”

“Don’t call me Huntsman, it makes me sound boring.” the Huntsman huffed and Sanji snorted, smoke slipped from between his lips. A headache tapped at his temples.

“What should I call you?” Sanji asked, the pain doubled, then tripled, he hugged his knees to his chest; pressing his hands against his forehead with a strained groan. A wave of nausea swept over him, the Huntsman looked at him with confusion.

“What? What are you doing?” 

Sanji swallowed hard and pushed back against the black dots filling his eyes. When it subsided he sighed.

“Nothing, I’m fine.”

“Whatever you say.” he yawned and so did Sanji. It was nearing time for him to retire to his rooms.

“You never answered my question Huntsman.”

“Oh,” the Huntsman shivered, was he cold already? Humans were more feeble than Sanji thought. “Call me… Zolo.”

“Nice to meet you Zolo.”

“Nice to meet you too Sanji.”


	5. Chapter Five: Transformation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got this one out because so many people had been interested in the fanfic. Enjoy :)
> 
> (I know about as much as you do about the plot lmao)

**After bidding goodnight to Zolo, Sanji retired to his chambers.** Where he had the worst nightmare yet. Sanji was running through tall, golden grass. Laughing and calling out for  _ her  _ to slow down. She teased him, grinning back at him as he chased her. Finally he tackled her and she laid down in the grass, still smiling. Sanji laughed and kissed her, he’d missed this. He had missed her touch. Her very scent made him long for the past.

She said something and he pulled away. She repeated herself and Sanji understood.

_ I love you. _

The world was blurred when he opened his eyes. Rocking back and forth beneath his quaking legs. Sanji batted at stray branches and brambles in his haste. He growled and huffed, his body felt too big to be real, dizzying nausea pulled him back under.

When he came to for the final time he was naked and laying in a clearing. Staring up at the distant sun he squinted at the harsh sky. The snow he’d been laying in was melted and it had turned the dirt to mud. Sanji sat up, how did he get here? Where was here? He forced himself to his feet, swayed once, and righted himself. 

Closing his eyes against a growing headache Sanji gazed at the sun again and got his bearings. He recognized these plants and sticker bushes. Was he… in the gardens? Sanji didn’t focus on that realization as much as he focused on the man who had just stumbled upon him.

“Hello?” the Huntsman-er- _ Zolo  _ said. He kept his eyes awkwardly glued to Sanji’s face. Sanji yawned and growled,

“What time is it?”

“Before noon.” Zolo responded, “what are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Sanji’s tail curled in frustration, of  _ all  _ the times to be caught sleepwalking… he cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders. “You lost?”

“No,” Zolo crossed his arms, “why are you-uh-naked?”

“It’s my castle last time I checked.” Sanji snarled, stomping past the man, brushing twigs and dead leaves off his body and out of his feathers. Zolo snorted and followed after him, he kept a distance though, as if to say he didn’t need Sanji to guide his way. The Dragon paid no mind to his nakedness. Acting as if it was the most normal thing in the world. To have nightmares and wake up in the old gardens. Sanji’s nose puffed a constant stream of smoke for the better half of the day. 

That was never a good sign. Sanji swallowed around the burning in his chest.  _ One-hundred and first starless night…  _ the new moon was stealing his control. Forcing him closer and closer to the edge of that cursed cliff. He would have to prepare for this. Zolo shouted at him and Sanji turned,

“What?” he snarled, gods this man was annoying. He should have left him to die on that plateau. Sanji massaged his eyes.

“Did you always have horns?”

Sanji stopped, “ _ horns?”  _

He felt his hair, indeed there were hard mounds of pointed keratin jutting from his forehead. Sanji flushed and said that he had always had these horns; they were just molted at the time. Thank the gods the stupid man believed him. 

After returning to his chambers Sanji wrapped a sheet loosely around his waist, it would take some time to sew and mend a new pair of trousers. With smoke still pouring out of his nose Sanji decided that the best course of action-and the only one at this point-was to venture into the library. With gold and chains dangling from his neck he grabbed some dried meat and made his way down the hall. The snowstorm had hit later than he thought it would. Outside, a howling wind beat on the castle walls and Sanji shivered, what if he had been caught in that? 

He rubbed his bare arms and swallowed the last of his tough meat. Standing before a grand, carved door Sanji braced his palms against the wood and pushed. It opened with a stubborn groan and a burst of cold, stale air. He shivered again and wandered inside. Where to look? Curse Breaking wasn’t exactly his strong suit. Sanji had read these books cover to cover countless times. The shelves lining the room were at least two stories tall. Packed with ancient texts and dusty artifacts, ladders on and off their tracks littered the room. Crumpled papers covered rotted wooden desks nestled in their own individual alcoves. Priceless paintings, many with their faces torn to shreds, hung in these alcoves. Burnt out candles and lamps sat in depressing silence. Chairs were splintered and broken all across the scratched and warped wood floors. Ruined carpets, ripped thread from thread, were bunched up in the corners. Sanji sighed, his body twitched with the desire to high-tail it away from this place. He walked deeper insider, dragging his fingers through thick layers of dust. Picking up pieces of feather quills and shattered ink jars, smudging his hands with the old, dried substances. 

His heart still ached with rage, residual grief built up as tears in his eyes. Sanji looked at the old books surrounding him and knew that he needed to leave. He wasn’t ready to come back in here, so close to the westernmost tower. He rubbed his eyes against the onslaught of nausea and pain, sniffing once he turned to flee.

He jumped, the Huntsman stared at him with an intensity that Sanji couldn’t understand. Without a single word he walked to the nearest alcove began gathering the remains of an armchair. Sanji was crying, silent tears that streamed down his cheeks and choked in his throat. Nodding, to himself or to the Huntsman, he knelt down beside him and started to clean. 

Eventually the smoke weathered down to a slow trickle and Sanji had time to calm his frayed nerves. Outside the storm still raged, the chill had seeped into this room, combated only by the fire they had built in the hearth out of old paintings and wood splinters. Zolo didn’t speak to him, not even when he found an old portrait that bore a shocking resemblance to Sanji, this one had been spared the fate of being shredded by his claws. He smiled, seeming almost happy, but it had been forced, the artist had done a good job hiding his pain. 

Sanji was almost glad to watch it burn. It took a long time, but eventually they had fed the flame everything that would fit in the hearth. The Huntsman had taken a knife from his boot and carved up the stiff carpets so that they too would burn. Finally, after spending the entire day cleaning the library, Sanji allowed himself to sit hard on the ground. 

Staring at his hands he didn’t really notice when Zolo sat down next to him. 

“I get it, I think.” he whispered as though he was scared that if he spoke louder the uneasy silence they shared would shatter. “Not being able to face the past.”

Sanji considered screaming that Zolo would never know what it was like to bear the burden of a thousand deaths on his shoulders. But one glance at the tired, worn lines of his face said otherwise. Sanji rested his chin on one of his knees and nodded.

“I’m sure you do.” Sanji yawned, “it’s too late to make dinner. Sorry.”

The Huntsman looked at him in surprise.

_ “You  _ make the food?” he asked like it was the strangest thing in the world. Sanji nodded and Zolo laughed and he made weird gestures with his hands. “I always thought that you had servants?”

Sanji picked his chin up and shook his head. 

“I’m alone.”

“Well no  _ shit,”  _ Zolo huffed, “I meant like…”

His words fell into mumbles and Sanji leaned closer.

“I can’t hear you?”

“I thought you had…” he flushed and looked away. Even his ears were red. “... ghost servants or something…”

Sanji snorted, and, in an act of magic that he hadn’t used in a hundred years, he snapped his fingers. A faint red orb flickered to life beside Zolo. The Huntsman jumped and yelped, scooting backwards so fast that he fell into Sanji’s lap. Sanji chuckled and smiled at the ghostly apparition. 

“Hello, it’s been a while hasn’t it?” the light flickered and took the shape of an elderly man, a stout man with a kind face and a missing leg. Sanji smiled, this magic was draining, his very soul was quaking with the strain. The ghost nodded and bowed at the hip. “Zolo this is Zeff, Zeff meet the most recent man to try an’ kill me.”

Zolo stammered and kicked at Zeff, when his foot passed through the man he squeaked. Sanji chuckled and waved his hand, Zeff faded into nothing, he blew out a sigh. Shoving the Huntsman off his lap.

“You act like you’ve never seen a spirit before.”

“I… I don’t get out much.” Zolo confessed, Sanji got to his feet. 

“Zeff is…  _ was  _ a good friend and an excellent chef.” he coughed and made his way to the door. “Taught me everything I know.”

Zolo grabbed his arm, Sanji resisted the urge to pull free. How long had it been since he’d let someone touch him in such a familiar way?

“Where do you  _ go  _ at night?” Zolo blurted and Sanji looked at him confused.

“What do you mean?”

“At night,” the Huntsman confessed, looking at him with that same intense gaze. “I hear you stomping around outside my door.”

“I’ve never been a sleepwalker, you must be hearing things Huntsman.” Sanji ripped his hand free, decided he wasn’t ready to reopen that door, and left in a huff. 

He’d waited too long, the sun had gone, and as soon as he stepped into the hall he collapsed.


	6. Chapter Six: The Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A look into Sanji's past

**It had been the battered, bloody, and bruised Huntsman that shook him awake.** Sanji opened his eyes to the blurred remains of the westernmost tower. Black bricks precariously balanced on charred beams surrounded him. Part of the eastern wall had collapsed long ago, ivy grew along the remains. Zolo was saying something, Sanji groaned and looked out at the grey sky. It was still snowing, the blizzard raged and heavy, wet snowflakes fell around them. His ears were ringing, the Huntsman looked horrified above him. His face was scratched and covered in dried blood. Sanji reached up and cradled his cheek, Zolo flinched and Sanji could feel the tense set of his jaw.

The Dragon blinked, the world took it’s time coming into focus once again.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Zolo shouted and Sanji squinted at him. 

“What…” Sanji groaned and sat up. His head was pounding. Old magic bore into his bones, just sitting up took all of his strength. The obsidian horns had grown, his wings were heavier, even his tail felt strange. Sanji fell to his side and the Huntsman cursed.

“Get the  _ fuck  _ up!” the man growled, kicking Sanji hard in his side. “I’m gonna  _ fucking  _ kill you!”

Sanji struggled to his hands and knees, then promptly threw up. Pain exploded through his cheek, rolling onto his back Sanji stared at Zolo. His fist was bruised and his knuckles bloody. The Dragon’s skin was so cold and clammy that he hardly registered the impact of the punch. He shuddered, a wave of heat washed over him. Then another and another, Sanji curled in on himself. Why was this happening?

Zolo was still shouting and kicking him. Fuck he was going throw up again. It burned like lava in his throat. Sweat broke out across his skin,  _ what was happening?  _ Sanji moaned, agony, rippling agony tore through his chest. His nose bled, his ears rang, his eyes rolled in their sockets. Skin turned to obsidian scales. Flesh to tough armor. Heart to fire, and his hands into claws. How long… how long had it been?

_ I love you.  _ Sanji wailed, a horrific shriek that tore from his vocal chords. The Huntsman cursed, the Dragon whirled around to stare at him. Smoldering grey eyes, brilliant like the rising sun, burned with hatred. He growled, saliva dripping from between his teeth, and lunged. 

**One hundred years ago the castle had been a thriving place.** A staple of wealth and prosperity. It’s ports were always clogged with huge caravel ships. Each one filled to the brim with all matter of exotic fruits, gold, and textiles. Passenger ships unloaded hundreds of tourists into the bustling city every day. Taverns, shops, restaurants, and gambling dens lined the crowded streets. Horses and carriages carted drowsy workers to and fro from the mills and fields. Men with long canes tapped on windows to rouse the sleeping. Hastily assembled stalls offered steaming coffee and bakeries fresh pastries. Women walked with baskets piled high with wool and linens atop their heads. Kids ran rampant through the alleyways and along rooftops. Smacking iron rings with sticks as they did. They threw snow at each other in sloppy forts, for winter lasted the entire year in this city. 

In the Summer the snowstorms waned down to flurries and overcast skies. The sun never fully dipped below the horizon, making the night just as bright as the day. Rocky beaches roared with freezing water and chunks of shattered ice. On the rare occasion that the clouds parted, the brilliant sun would burn those who were unaccustomed to the blinding snow. 

During the Winter months blizzards would rage, snow would pile up as high as the buildings. The sun would never rise above the horizon. The creeks and rivers would freeze and become too dangerous to cross. Vegetation would freeze and families would bundle up in their thickest coats in order to work. Not much would change for the locals, but the tourists would become sparse. Thankfully, the King, a kind and just ruler, would offer loans and gold to those who needed it most. 

This nation had the best armies, the best farms, the best navy, it was the peak of the world. That is… until a Lone Swordsman by the name of Dracule Mihawk showed up at the castle’s doorstep. 

It had been a sunny day mid-spring when that strange man had shown up. The day had just started and the air was warm and wet like the inside of a hothouse. Sanji had been peeling potatoes in the kitchens. Sitting on a worn wooden stool, happily humming to himself as he went. He was new to this kind of work, the dozens of healing cuts on his hands proved that. His mentor and father-figure, an old, grizzled man who Sanji called Zeff, prepped meat on the counter next to him. 

The old-geezer jabbered away about what they would prepare for the kind and just King and his family. Sanji huffed and pouted, tossing a peeled potato into the bucket next to him. 

“What’s so great about the King?” he wondered aloud, every single person in the kitchen froze. Zeff blinked and laughed to dispel the tension.

“Boy, watch what you say! The King keeps us safe.” he explained and Sanji shrugged. He hadn’t been born in this kingdom, he felt no loyalty to the King and his family. 

“Whatever you say old man…” he surrendered and continued peeling. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air. Sanji hadn’t known it then, but he had just sealed his fate.

In the passages above the Lone Swordsman had just arrived. He rode on a horse black as the deepest night and as tall as the strongest pine. Word travelled quickly in the castle, and soon the servants were skittering about trying to learn as much as they could about the stranger. The King welcomed him with a smile and a laugh, but the Swordsman offered no such greeting. His stare was cold and calculated, as though he was rather bored. Upon his back he wore a greatsword with a hilt larger than his shoulders. The King, though a powerful man, shuddered to think about what would happen should the man draw the enormous weapon.

He had brought the Swordsman here for a reason and one reason only. The Swordsman bowed at his feet, yet he still said nothing. The King nodded and, in the silent throne room, whispered his request.

Back in the kitchens the royal family’s lunch had been prepared. Sanji and the other servants brought it out to them course by course. The Swordsman ate with the King. Sanji, ever curious, had kept an eye on him, and never once had he heard the man speak. He ate in silence and drank copious amounts of wine. Seemingly uncomfortable in the noisy environment. The King joked and laughed boisterously, his voice striking like thunder in the mess hall. Sanji stood silently behind the Queen, chewing his lip while he waited to be dismissed. From across the table he couldn’t help but feel that those burning yellow eyes were focused on him.

Sanji shuddered, the skin on his neck prickled and his chest ached like it was on fire! He coughed and swore that his breath hung like smoke in the air. He must have been getting sick, Sanji swallowed around his dry throat and tried to regain his composure. The Swordsman leaned over and said something to the King, to which he nodded, all while keeping his eagle-eyes trained on the boy.

Later that night Sanji had been summoned to the throne room. He was surprised to find that he wasn’t alone. There were dozens of townsfolk and witnesses surrounding him. The King looked down at him from his throne, the Swordsman at his side. 

“Boy…” the King said, “it has been brought to my attention that…”

He paused and Sanji’s heart dropped. What was the meaning of this?

“You’re a dragon aren’t you?”

Sanji choked, a  _ dragon?  _ He was  _ not  _ a dragon! Those were… they were the stuff of nightmares! Ghoulish creatures that took the form of humans in order to rape princesses and murder kings. They burned fields, destroyed cities, he couldn’t be one of them! His stomach churned, he coughed and fell to his knees. Looking up through fringed hair, the world turned to waves of nausea. Fire burned him from the inside out, he tried to scream.

Nothing came out. Covered in sweat he fell to his side. Throwing up all over the plush carpets, his vomit was red with blood. The King and the spectators gasped in horror. Sanji whimpered and clawed at the ground. Tears streamed down his face,  _ what was happening?  _

“What--are you doing to me?!” he rasped, the Swordsman’s yellow eyes danced in his head. His bones cracked, his skin tore, Sanji wailed in horror. His-his hands, he stared at them in shock, they were turning into claws. Scales bloomed across his skin, dark as the deepest night, his nails turned to talons. Bursting from his flesh, sending agony rocketing up his arms. Muscle and sinew rippled and tore apart, he screamed and screamed and screamed. 

“Make it stop!” he begged through ugly tears. _ “MAKE IT STOP!” _

Bones grinded beneath his skin. Leathery wings tore from his back. Black teeth, sharper than razors, exploded from his gums. Blood cascaded down his chin, hot and heavy it made him sick. Sanji sobbed, his sobs turned to growls, and then to roars. Horns sprouted from his forehead, his clothes were torn to shreds. Finally,  _ finally  _ the pain seemed to subside. His body was all wrong, too big, too heavy, it was just  _ wrong.  _

Sanji stumbled backwards, woozy and terrified. 

“What did you do to me?” he tried to shout, it came out as a horrific cry. He shook his head and groaned, the King, everyone he’d ever cared about, they all looked at him in disbelief. The Swordsman stared at him, his cold ruthless eyes boring into Sanji’s soul.

“On the dawn of the one-hundredth and first starless night my disciple will find you and he will kill you for what you’ve done.”

_ What did he do?  _ Sanji cowered, angry, humiliated, he was a monster. Zeff caught his eye, Sanji couldn’t take it, he snarled and then he burned the city to the ground.


End file.
